


don't let the pictures leave your phone

by daisysusan



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Established Relationship, F/F, Genderswap, Implied Relationships, Sex Tape, girl!Harry, girl!Niall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-26
Updated: 2013-01-26
Packaged: 2017-11-26 22:56:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/655291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisysusan/pseuds/daisysusan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Niall is pretty sure this isn't going to be worth the trouble; or, the one where Harry and Niall fail pretty hard at making a sex tape, but at least they get to have fun trying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	don't let the pictures leave your phone

**Author's Note:**

> As regards the title, [formerlydf](http://archiveofourown.org/users/formerlydf) made me do it. I have nothing else to say for myself.

"Harry," Niall says, after the third time she nearly drops the camera, "I'm not sure this is going to work."

She's not sure what Harry says in response, because it's half whine and the half that might be words is muffled by the way her mouth is attached to the side of Niall's tit. If Niall extrapolates from last time, though, it’s probably something like, “Come _on_ , Nialler, it’ll be really hot.”

Niall tries to sound aggravated, but it’s really difficult when Harry’s mouthing at one of her nipples and tweaking the other, so mostly she sounds like she wants to press Harry into the mattress and lick her until she screams. Because, well, because she fucking _does_ , all right? 

But right now, she’s got Harry’s mobile held precariously in her left hand, and she’s trying to work out the angle—“Oh, _fuck_ ,” she hisses when Harry bites down, sucking air in hard. But she’s still trying to work out the angle she needs with the camera to catch the sharp of Harry’s teeth on her tit without making her face so visible it’ll get them both in trouble when Harry inevitably loses her mobile in a club. 

She’s finally found one, maybe, and is moving her thumb sloppily toward the shutter button when Harry pressed two fingers against her cunt and Niall drops the camera on her own face. She pushes it away immediately, because Harry’s fingers teasing at her is more important that trying to take a ridiculous picture.

After, when she’s starfished on the bed with Harry’s face pressed into her neck, she fumbles around for the phone. There’s a picture on it, but it’s a blur of pale skin and the blue of the duvet. 

“I dropped the camera,” Niall says, a little sheepish but mostly smug about having been proven right. Again. 

Harry wrinkles her nose; Niall can feel it against her skin. “It’s not nearly as difficult as you’re making it out to be,” she says, her pout audible. 

Niall tugs at one of the curls hanging long and mussed down her back. “Why don’t you try it, then?”

“I _have_ ,” she says. Harry’s ability to whinge even while post-coitally blissed out could win some sort of whinging award. It’s horrible. (Niall loves it.) “I took pictures of Caroline going down on me.”

Niall’s not sure if she wants to punch Caroline out for having gotten her mouth on Harry’s cunt first, or find the pictures and secret them away to stare out when she’s at home and unable to actually put her hands on Harry. 

“Well, you can take them again,” Niall says. 

“I don’t wanna.” Harry’s words are stretched out even slower than usual with sleepiness, and Niall’s so unbearably fond of her she can’t quite bring herself to argue. 

“Fine,” she huffs out. “We’ll try again.”

Harry kisses her neck and mumbles, “Love you,” sleepily against her skin. 

\--

The next attempt might have got off to a better start if they hadn’t got a bit carried away and Niall hadn’t rubbed off against Harry’s thigh before they even got their clothes all the way off. As it is, she’s trying to find Harry’s mobile where it’s buried in one of the piles of their clothes and her arms are feeling a bit wobbly. 

Harry’s clearly more focused on the sex bit than the sexy pictures bit, because she drags Niall back over by the wrist and makes to work a hand between her thighs. 

“I thought,” Niall says, choking back a gasp when Harry’s fingers make contact. “I thought you wanted me to take pictures.”

Harry blinks at her, slow and heavy and so hot Niall nearly lunges forward to kiss her senseless. “Right. Yeah. We should do that.”

And then her mobile is pressed into Niall’s hand—not even unlocked—and Harry’s kissing a slow path down Niall’s stomach. 

It’s difficult enough to unlock the phone, her fingers slippery and unsteady from the lingering effects of her first orgasm and the touch of Harry’s lips against her hipbone and the pressure of Harry’s hands on her thighs. Niall has no idea how she’s going to hold it steady enough to get a picture, not with the way she can already feel her hips working up in tiny thrusts. And she’s not going to _not get off_ just to get some pictures Harry wants. There is no possible way sexy pictures are hotter than actually coming with Harry’s face on her cunt. 

She manages to pull the camera function up and fumble around trying to aim it down; there’s no way it won’t be obvious it’s Harry between her legs, not with her hair. Niall’s too distracted by the brush of Harry’s thumbs up the insides of her legs and the way she’s still not quite got her tongue where Niall needs to give two fucks, though. 

Reaching down, trying for a better angle of Harry’s mouth against her skin, Niall realizes she’s so focused on holding the phone up she’s not paying any attention to the shapes Harry’s drawing with her tongue. 

“Harry,” she whines, more plaintive than aroused. “This isn’t as much fun as getting off.”

Harry pulls off where she’s been working diligently at sucking a lovebite under the jut of Niall’s hipbone with a popping sound. “But it’ll be more fun _later_.”

Niall makes an exasperated noise. “I can’t focus on holding the camera when you’re teasing like that and I can’t get off while I’m paying attention to the camera.”

“You already got off once,” Harry says, obnoxiously reasonable for someone whose lips are already going red and who looks stupidly turned-on. She bites her lip and Niall wants to take her apart, screw the pictures. Just more screwing. 

“This isn’t going to work,” Niall says. She’s too frustrated to be optimistic, and now Harry’s ignoring her neglected cunt entirely, positioning the camera herself. 

And then she dives back in, licking at Niall’s clit out of nowhere. 

Niall drops the mobile on her head. 

“Ow,” Harry says weakly, and then pushes the phone off the bed. “We’ll try again later.”

\--

For their next go—Harry is _seriously_ devoted to this—they get fancy, building a makeshift tripod for Harry’s actual camera next to the bed instead of just trying for photographs. 

“Cool,” Niall says when they’ve finally got it set up as well as they can. “I’ve always wanted to have a sex scandal.” 

Harry giggles. “They’re not as much fun as sex.”

“Good job we’re already doing that, then,” Niall says. Harry pokes at her stomach and wrinkles her nose. 

It’s a bit odd, just standing next to the bed like this, with this weird not-quite-sexy anticipation of having sex. 

“We should probably make sure it’s at the right angle,” Harry says, and Niall jumps at the opportunity to actually do something. She scrambles around until she’s lying on the bed, and grins over at Harry before starting to undo her jeans. 

She’s focused back on squirming out of them when Harry announces that the camera is all set up and then flings herself onto the bed and kisses her. 

“No dropping the camera this time,” she says against Niall’s mouth before pulling back to sit over her hips and tug her shirt off. And then Niall’s staring up at the ridiculous lace bra that Harry’s wearing, dark blue against the pale skin of her tits and—and maybe a push-up bra as well? Christ, but Harry _dressed for the occasion_. 

Niall’s in her usual nearly worn-out sports bra and, well, Harry’s never complained about them in the past but she’s definitely starting to see the appeal of the fancier stuff. 

She wonders if Harry’s in matching knickers and then forces the thought away before she blacks out from arousal. Instead, she tries to decide whether she’d rather take Harry’s bra off or press sloppy kisses around the edges of it to feel the scratch of the lace against her lips. 

It’s basically an impossible choice, but Harry luckily solves the problem by reaching behind herself and undoing the bra herself. Niall misses it as soon as Harry’s thrown it across the room, half excitement and half over-the-top show for the camera Niall had basically forgotten was there. 

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” Harry says, with a half-hearted scowl at Niall’s t-shirt. 

“Do something about it, then,” Niall says, reaching up to put her hands behind her head. Harry smiles at her and flicks her nose, and Niall knows she means _you’re such a lazy twat_ and _but I love you anyway_. 

Besides, she does push Niall’s shirt up as much as she can, and then strips it off entirely when Niall pulls herself up a bit. Harry throws the shirt off somewhere, Niall’s not paying attention because she’s got Harry’s tits nearly in her face and she’d rather trace imaginary shapes on them with her tongue and maybe leave a few lovebites that she can think about during boring interviews. 

Harry’s got all the leverage, though, and it means that Niall can’t just flip them over to make it easier to climb all over her. 

“Budge up,” she finally says, when it’s clear Harry’s just going to let Niall play with her tits. Harry flops over onto her back with a smile, of course, because Niall’s hardly ever made a request in bed that Harry hasn’t gone through with. 

And then Niall’s kissing her way across Harry’s stomach, achingly slow, and she completely forgets about the camera. 

\--

It turns out to be totally okay that Niall forgot about the camera, because when Harry had tossed her t-shirt, it had got hooked over the camera, so most of the video is of the inside of Niall’s t-shirt. 

The noises are pretty hot, though. So that’s something. Just a few minutes of listening has Niall fiddling with the edge of the sheet, considering whether she wants to put her fingers in more interesting places. Maybe Harry is onto something with this sex tape business. 

She glances over at Harry, who’s got her eyes closed and seems to be listening intently. 

“This is hot,” Niall says, maybe unnecessarily. 

Harry smirks at her. “Told you.”

After a short pause, during which Harry-in-the-tape moans loudly, Niall says, “Wanna go again?”

Harry tackles her back onto the bed and kisses her. 

\--

“We can totally do this,” Harry says, frowning at the camera. She’s completely naked, and it’s more than a little distracting. 

“Course we can,” Niall says, though she’s honestly more concerned with getting Harry to come back to bed than in whether or not they succeed this time. It’s not having to keep having sex with Harry is a trial or something, she fucking loves it. 

“You don’t sound very sure.” Harry’s pouting at her now, that ridiculous expression she uses when she’s afraid she might not get her way. 

“Of course I’m sure. Now come here,” Niall says. Harry rolls her eyes, just the slightest bit, but she comes over and drops down onto the bed next to Niall regardless. “I love you,” Niall says, kissing her just in front of her ear, then trailing more kisses down her jawline. 

“I love you too.” Harry’s voice is warm and a little rough and so happy it makes Niall’s stomach hurt. She stretches up to kiss Harry properly, tangling their tongues and sighing when Harry pulls her closer. 

Maybe slow and sweet isn’t what sex tapes are meant to be like, Niall has no idea, but Harry giggles quietly when Niall’s fingers brush her side, and she can’t really think of a way it could be better. Besides, this way they probably won’t knock the camera down by making the whole room shake. 

Probably.

\--

Naturally, not two days after they finally manage to record it successfully—and then watch it, and then reenact it—Louis decides to go exploring on Harry’s mobile and finds the video. And then watches it, because he could really some sort of nosy twat Olympics. 

Still, watching his eyes go wide a few seconds in is more than worth the embarrassment. 

There’s also the fact that he doesn’t stop watching until the video over is to think about.

Still, as soon as it’s finished playing and Niall’s finished awkwardly listening to herself have sex, she snatches the phone out of Louis’s hands, and winks at him when he doesn’t quite pull off an unselfconscious smirk. 

“Mind your own business, Tommo,” she says, sticking her tongue out. 

“Don’t do that, Nialler,” he says, shaking his head. “You’re going to give me ideas.”

“I’ll do whatever I like, and I’ll do it to Harry whenever I like.”

Louis just looks at her all sullen and forlorn and he’s faking it, of course he’s faking it, but it makes her want to hug him more than roll her eyes. 

“Talk to Harry,” she adds. “She’s the one with all the ideas.”


End file.
